CALAMITY : Legends Of The Chosen

Maze of Stone — Scene 1: Awakening the Unseen

Alex groaned as she opened her eyes, dust falling from her lashes. Her body throbbed with a low, humming ache, but her mind, sharpened beyond human comprehension, was already working.

"Where…?" she whispered.

The maze stretched around her in all directions — tall, ancient walls of obsidian stone etched with incomprehensible runes. It was unnaturally quiet. Too quiet. Even for someone like her, whose mind could detect the flickers of distant thoughts, there was... nothing.

Until something shifted.

A shape stood silently just ten meters ahead. A statue.

It looked human in form, vaguely. Arms outstretched, stone blade in hand. Expressionless. Unmoving.

Alex narrowed her eyes, taking a cautious step closer. There was something odd about it — a faint ripple in the mental atmosphere. Like... consciousness. Barely there, but it was real. Faint. Flickering.

Her eyes glowed faintly violet as she raised her hand. "What are you?" she muttered, fingers trembling from exhaustion but still precise.

She reached into it. Not physically — psychically.

The moment her mind touched the essence buried within the statue, she recoiled. A pulse of psychic agony surged back at her, making her knees buckle.

That wasn't a mind. It was a trap.

But she'd seen something — a flicker of cruelty, of hunger. Not instinct. Will.

She clenched her teeth and raised both hands, dragging the buried psychic fragment out like pulling a splinter from stone. Her fingers twitched with effort as the air around the statue shimmered.

A faint, dark cloud peeled off from the statue's head. A mind. No… a presence.

Alex's eyes widened. "It's not just stone…"

The statue didn't move. Not yet. But now — now she knew it could.

And something told her this wasn't the only one.

Maze of Stone — Scene 2: The Blink That Shouldn't Have Happened

Alex stood frozen, her pupils dilated as the last traces of the psychic haze dissipated from the statue's form. The moment she severed the connection, the silence returned — but something felt off.

Her breath caught.

It's watching me now...

No — that was irrational. Stone didn't move. Statues didn't think.

Then her eyes widened. The statue's hand… it had changed.

Just slightly. Subtly.

The blade it once held was now a few inches higher. Closer.

Alex took a slow step back. "No… I didn't see it move…"

She blinked.

A sudden clink of shifting stone echoed out.

She gasped and stumbled backward, her heel scraping against the floor as her body slammed into the unyielding maze wall behind her.

"No—"

She blinked again.

It was right in front of her face.

The statue's arm was now raised — centimeters away from her throat, stone fingers curved like talons. If she hadn't fallen back, it would've cleaved her in half.

Her heartbeat roared in her ears.

I blinked… and it moved.

She didn't know the rules. No one told her. But her mind pieced it together faster than most.

"They move when I look away…" she whispered, slowly dragging herself upright, keeping her eyes glued to the silent reaper of stone.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave. All the mental logic in the world couldn't deny what she just witnessed.

They weren't statues.

They were predators.

Alex took a shaky step sideways, eyes locked with the unmoving monster. The moment she blinked, even once—

Clink.

A twitch of stone.

"Fuck," she whispered.

She was in a nest of monsters… and she had just woken one up.

Maze of Stone – Scene 3: The Descent From Escape

Alex backed away with trembling breath, eyes trained on the statue that had nearly taken her head off. Her mind raced.

No laws of nature apply here. But maybe…

Her hands twitched with telekinetic ripples, violet waves swirling in her palms. Gravity was a suggestion. Distance was trivial. Thought bent reality if she focused enough.

"I'm not playing this stupid game," she growled.

The air around her shimmered — her psychic energy flaring like a corona around her body. Then—whoosh! Her form launched upward, the black-and-purple aura carving a spiral in the air as she propelled herself vertically, straight through the walls of the maze.

She was ascending, fast. Higher and higher. Out of the trap.

Freedom.

Almost.

Until—

Crack.

The sky shattered. The maze warped.

A wall that hadn't been there before now curled upward, blocking her path like a colossal serpent. Alex's eyes widened—

"What?!"

She had forgotten one thing.

The Maze is alive.

She tried to swerve midair — too late.

Something grabbed her ankle.

A stone grip — cold and crushing.

Her head snapped down.

Her mouth dropped open in horror.

It wasn't just one statue.

It was dozens of them, climbing over each other like insects, forming a grotesque tower of twisted stone faces and blank eyes — one on top of another, like a totem pole of inevitable death. They had stacked themselves to reach her.

And she had stopped looking.

She blinked.

The hand yanked her downward.

"NO—!"

With impossible strength, the lead statue swung her like a ragdoll, hurling her downward—

SLAM.

The ground cratered beneath her. Her body cracked and bounced like a broken doll. The air was blasted out of her lungs.

Before she could even register the pain, she was lifted again.

Then slammed a second time.

A third.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

It was mocking her.

Except she wasn't immortal. She was fragile.

Blood seeped from her mouth. Her mind spun into static. She tried to form a shield — too slow.

As she gasped and writhed, she saw them — countless statues crawling up the sides of the maze now, drawn to her like vultures to a dying flame.

"No—stay—back—" she wheezed, lifting a hand glowing dimly.

The pile rose again.

The last thing she saw before blacking out was their blank, soulless faces staring directly into hers as they descended again—

like gods of cruelty, punishing her for trying to defy the rules.

Maze of Stone – Scene 4: The Break Between Blinks

CRACK.

Alex's spine arched violently as the last slam sent a thunderous shockwave through the ground. Her limbs twitched, barely responsive, as she lay half-buried in stone rubble, her mind spinning in and out of consciousness. Every breath came with knives, every movement a threat to blackout.

The statues loomed above, shifting ever so slightly closer every time her eyes fluttered — like ticks crawling across a dying host.

But she wasn't dead yet.

And she wasn't a victim.

Not yet.

Her left eye opened halfway, blurred by blood leaking from a fresh gash on her forehead. Her psychic circuits sparked erratically — neurons flaring in disjointed pulses. She felt like a broken circuit board.

But one signal came clear.

Grasp. Crush. Free.

She raised her trembling fingers. A low hum emanated from her wrist — her psychic signature condensing into a violet glow.

The statue's hand around her ankle froze.

Then—

SNAP.

The stone fingers imploded, crushed by an invisible vice of thought.

She screamed as the force recoiled through her body — even victory hurt now. She hit the ground on her side, coughing, her head rolling slightly.

Blood gushed down her face, mixing with sweat and dirt. Her arms, which she had instinctively shielded her head with, were bent at wrong angles. Her skin was raw. Her bones screamed.

But her brain was still working.

She staggered upright, barely able to stay on her feet. Her eyes twitched toward the now-handless statue writhing in the distance, silently recoiling.

"Th-think that's enough to… kill me?" she muttered, blood seeping into her mouth.

She took a step back, wobbly.

"I've b-broken my mind more times than my bones," she hissed, forcing a laugh that ended in a wheeze. "You think slamming me into a wall's enough?"

Her psychic aura flared again. Weakly. Wavering. But there.

Still…

The statues weren't done.

Not even close.

And the ones climbing up behind her weren't watching anymore.

She had blinked.

Maze of Stone – Scene 5: "Adrenalytic Surge"

The pain should've made her pass out.

It didn't.

Something else clicked instead.

Adrenaline.

Focus.

Uncaged potential.

The moment her skull split open, something inside her did too. The pressure in her brain surged outward—not as chaos, but as sharpened precision. Her bloodied face lifted slowly, eyes glowing with a burning violet light. Not rage. Not fear.

Evolution.

She raised one hand. The air around her warped, folding like melted glass.

Three statues moved.

They lunged.

She didn't.

Instead, the ground erupted beneath them — stone pillars impaled two, slamming their craggy forms into the walls. The third froze mid-step as its own limbs contorted violently in place, bent backward by an invisible hand until it shattered with a deafening crack.

Alex's lips trembled. Not from pain anymore—

But from control.

She raised both arms now, every finger twitching with intent. Telekinetic shards hovered around her like orbiting satellites — knives made from broken fragments of the maze, all vibrating at impossible speeds.

"I don't need to move," she whispered to herself. "I am the motion."

Another wave.

Six statues. No hesitation.

She didn't scream this time.

She exhaled.

The shards fired — a barrage of violet force, slicing and tearing through stone. Limbs flew. Heads rolled. One statue lunged too close—Alex twisted her wrist, and the space around its chest imploded, collapsing its form into a dust pile.

Too many. They're everywhere... I can't stall them all.

She was winning skirmishes — but she was still losing the war.

Her legs gave out again for a brief second as a fresh stream of blood ran down the side of her temple. But her mind only grew clearer. Sharper. Her psychic aura expanded, covering the corridor like a pressure dome.

Far ahead, a path opened — a darker spiral staircase descending deeper into the maze.

It called to her like a wound waiting to be stitched.

"Nowhere to go but down," she muttered.

Alex clenched her fists, dragged her bleeding body upright again with pure psychic force, and threw herself forward with a telekinetic launch.

Behind her, the statues screeched to life, reforming, chasing.

But Alex didn't look back.

This wasn't escape.

It was war.

And her battlefield just changed.

Maze of Stone – Scene 6: "The Dead End Mind"

The descent felt endless.

Every wall hummed with psychic interference, like the maze was alive — breathing, pulsing, feeding. Alex glided down the winding corridor, blood still dripping from her temple, leaving a faint trail behind her. Her psychic field flickered with static, tugging at every shifting wall and stone echo.

But then—

Silence.

The floor leveled out. A long, dark hall stretched before her… ending in a circular chamber, lined with intricate carvings.

"I can sense it… no traps… no echoes…"

She floated forward cautiously. Her feet never touched the ground. The dust here was older. Ancient. Untouched. As she crossed the threshold into the chamber—

CLUNK.

The entrance sealed shut behind her.

Her heart dropped.

"…No."

Her hands flared with psychic power. She spun around and slammed the door with a telekinetic wave—

Nothing.

The walls didn't budge. Her pulse quickened.

Then she felt it.

A faint rumble.

No, not a rumble… footsteps.

Dozens.

All at once, the walls rippled.

Grooves in the floor split open. From hidden alcoves, from the ceiling, from the floor — the statues emerged. Not like before. Not scattered.

This was a ritual.

A hunt.

They stepped in perfect synchronization, encircling her in a slow, mechanical march. Fifty… no, seventy-two, her mind counted. Their empty faces glowed faintly with blood-red lines.

Their thoughts weren't thoughts — they were frequencies. Buzzing hunger. Static cruelty. Her psychic perception couldn't read them — only feel the unbearable pressure.

Alex's eye twitched. Her lip bled from biting it. But she forced herself to smile.

"Heh… fine. So this is how it is."

She rose into the air, hovering mid-chamber like a levitating queen crowned with blood and defiance. The telekinetic shards returned — jagged, razor-sharp, spinning around her like a halo.

"You want me to scream?" she growled. "You'll have to earn it."

A statue lunged. Her blade cut its arm off mid-swing.

Another came from behind. She flipped mid-air, slamming it into the wall with an invisible hand and splintering its torso.

But for every one she damaged, three more replaced it.

Her psychic barrier slammed outward, a dome of force sending the nearest wave back — but they climbed over each other, crawling like insects, their hunger mounting.

Her fingers began to tremble.

Not from fear — but from the strain. Every pulse of power felt slower. Heavier.

How many are there?

How many more can I fight?

The halo dimmed. Her vision blurred. Blood trickled into her eyes.

And then—

All seventy-two statues lunged at once.

She screamed—not in pain yet—but pure psychic exertion, unleashing a shockwave that flung half of them back. Her body dropped to one knee.

Then they closed the circle.

No more escapes.

No air to breathe.

No space to focus.

Only the bitter realization:

This is the end.

Maze of Stone – Scene 7: "The Neural Lull"

Blood dripping from her temple. Breathing sharp. Muscles trembling.

Alex couldn't keep this up.

Too many.

Too close.

Her fingers twitched, and in her final breath of clarity, she focused inward.

Neural Lull... lull... lull…

A wave of psionic calm burst from her in all directions — like a heartbeat washing through the stone.

Silence.

The statues… stopped.

Their arms froze mid-swing.

Their steps halted.

Even the crimson veins along their stone skin dimmed, like snuffed embers.

Alex's knees buckled. She collapsed to the ground on her side, clutching her ribs, coughing, spitting blood. A smile crept to her lips.

"…Ha… it worked…" she breathed. "I… bought myself time…"

For a moment, the chamber was still.

She stared at the unmoving statues, panting softly.

"...I made it..." she whispered, tears welling up behind blood-soaked lashes. "...I'm still alive..."

But then—

One of the statues twitched.

Then another.

Then their heads all turned to face her, in perfect synchronization.

The illusion shattered.

Their bodies weren't frozen from hesitation. They weren't calmed.

They were just waiting.

Observing.

Neural Lull had only made them… curious.

The killing instinct never faded. It just quieted. And now… it wanted to understand her more intimately.

A stone hand grabbed her by the throat, fingers like razors. She gasped, her voice catching.

"No—! Let—go—!"

She clawed at its hand with everything she had. Psychic pressure surged up, but it was sluggish, disoriented by her own Lull. Her mind tried to push, to crush, to command.

Nothing.

Her legs kicked, weakly, as the statue lifted her off the ground.

Then, with mechanical slowness—

It squeezed.

Alex's body convulsed.

Her jaw clenched.

Her arms flailed in desperation.

Foam bubbled from her mouth.

It stopped.

Dropped her like a ragdoll.

She hit the ground coughing violently — breathless, convulsing, twitching.

Then—

Again.

The same statue picked her back up. Another hand joined it.

Alex managed one desperate, hoarse plea:

"…please… I just wanted… t-to…"

But no one heard.

No one ever heard inside this maze.

Her legs kicked slower. Her vision blurred. Neural Lull had saved her from instant death — only to ensure her death would be slow.

And they repeated it. Again. And again.

Each time waiting for her to recover.

Each time crushing her windpipe just enough to draw out a little more silence.

They weren't here for screams.

They were here for the struggle.

Alex stumbled backward, the stone corridor of the maze pressing in on her from all sides. Blood dripped from her temple, matting her platinum hair. Her breath came in uneven bursts as the echo of her scream dissolved into the endless, stone silence.

She had used Neural Lull.

It was supposed to pacify the statues—numb the killing intent, suppress their will. But the statues weren't beings. They had no psyche to soothe, no fear to sway. They were nothing but hunger wearing stone. And now, the lull had only delayed them. A calm before the storm.

A mistake.

"No... no, that should've worked," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. "That always works."

One of the statues tilted its head unnaturally, slowly. Another's fingers twitched. She backed away, eyes wide, hands trembling.

"Don't come any closer," she hissed. "I can still— I can still think."

The statues moved. Deliberate. Patient. Their joints cracked like dry branches in winter. Not charging. Just... closing in.

Alex's knees buckled. Her thoughts—usually a symphony of ordered calculations—fractured into static. Equations that used to comfort her now blinked incomprehensibly across her inner mind.

"You're the smartest. You're the mind. You don't break."

But something was breaking.

Her eyes darted between them, trying to hold them in place. A stuttering psychic pulse shot from her fingertips, forcing one of the closer statues to pause. But another statue, inches from her peripheral vision, took a step closer.

Her vision pulsed in and out. Pain bloomed behind her skull like a black sun. Her mind—her fortress, her haven—was slipping.

"No... I'm not supposed to feel this," she whispered. "I don't panic. I'm... I'm Alex."

She staggered into the wall, breathing shallow, ragged. Her lips trembled.

"I am the mind. I was chosen for my mind..."

A cold shadow loomed over her. The nearest statue reached out again, curling fingers around her throat like it had done before. Slowly. Mockingly.

She tried to scream, but only a sharp wheeze escaped. Her psychic defenses were sparking—flickering—collapsing.

This isn't pain. This is humiliation. This is fear.

Her fingers twitched, feebly pressing against the statue's arm. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, down her chin.

Through the haze, fragments of her mind began to splinter off, replaying memories that weren't hers—strangers' faces, mathematical formulas smeared into gibberish, Karl's voice in the distance—was it real?—laughing, apologizing, loving...

Then—silence.

A vast, humming nothingness swallowed the panic. Her mind collapsed in on itself like a dying star.

Alex's last coherent thought before unconsciousness crept in like fog was simple:

"So... this is what it feels like to not be in control."

Her eyes bulged, wide with panic, as her vision blurred and darkened at the edges. The crushing grip tightened mercilessly, squeezing the air from her lungs like a vice. Her throat burned; her tongue swelled painfully in her mouth. Her body trembled uncontrollably, muscles spasming in a desperate plea for oxygen.

"Please… no… stop…" her voice cracked into a hoarse rasp, barely audible. Tears streaked down her face, mixing with sweat and blood from a split lip.

Her mind raced, fragmented by the suffocating pressure. She felt the edges of consciousness fraying, slipping toward oblivion.

Alex's fingers clawed desperately at the rough, stone fingers wrapped around her throat. Her nails scraped against unyielding cold, pain shooting through her fingertips as she fought to pry them free. Her breath came in harsh, uneven gasps — lungs burning, ribs straining with every futile inhale.

Alex's chest heaved violently, every breath a battle as the cold stone fingers tightened mercilessly around her throat. Her hands clawed at the cruel grasp, desperate, trembling, trying to pry free.

Alex's lungs burned, every inhale shallow and desperate as the statues' stone hands constricted around her throat. Her fingers clawed weakly at the crushing grasp, trembling and soaked with sweat.

"No… no, please…" she gasped, her voice a strangled rasp. "I'm not done… not yet…"

But the statues showed no mercy. Their unyielding grip compressed further, silencing her pleas as foam began to gather at the corners of her mouth.

"Please… stop… I'm begging you…" Her voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible, strangled by the unyielding grip.

Her mind raced, panic clawing at her thoughts. This can't be how it ends. Not like this.Her vision blurred at the edges, panic surging through her veins. This can't be how it ends. I have to fight… I have to hold on.

Fight! Fight! she willed herself, summoning the last shards of strength. With a shuddering, ragged breath, she plunged into her psychic depths — her sanctuary and her weapon.

Summoning the last reserves of her psychic strength, she focused on the dark void inside her — that dangerous, forbidden power she'd barely dared to touch before: Lucid Collapse.

Her vision fractured, colors twisting and tearing as she unleashed Lucid Collapse — a mental cage forcing the statues into a waking nightmare, locked in endless conflict with themselves. The statues froze, their stone faces contorted in silent agony as the battle within their minds erupted.

"You think you can break me?" she whispered, voice cracking but fierce. "I'll drag you into madness first."

The statues' cold eyes flickered strangely, their massive forms shuddering. Suddenly, reality twisted and warped around them — they staggered as if caught in an invisible tempest.

Alex's vision dimmed, darkness pressing in, but her mind was a blazing storm. Fight. Fight! Don't let them win.

Inside their minds, the statues were trapped — locked in agonizing combat against twisted reflections of themselves. Nightmarish echoes battled in endless loops of torment, cries of rage and fear echoing in the psychic battlefield.

A faint tremor ran through the stone hands crushing her throat. The grip loosened — just slightly.

Alex gasped, her body trembling with exhaustion but her eyes burning with defiance.

But the physical world was unforgiving. The crushing hold loosened only briefly — and then with brutal finality, the largest statue seized her head, wrenching it backward.

A sickening crack echoed through the silence.

Pain exploded in Alex's neck as her spine shattered under the crushing force. A searing jolt shot through her, tendons tearing, muscles spasming wildly. Her body convulsed, eyes rolling back in horror as her limbs went limp.

But even as her body betrayed her, her mind blazed with defiance.

The statues convulsed, unable to escape the mental prison she'd forged. Their towering bodies writhed as their souls waged a war far beyond flesh.

The grip around Alex's throat loosened slightly — just enough for her to gulp in ragged air, her body trembling but her spirit roaring.

"You won't have me," she gasped, eyes blazing despite the creeping darkness.You won't have me. Not like this.

"You won't take me. Not today," she hissed through ragged breaths.

The statues writhed, caught in her mental trap, their futile struggles filling the labyrinth with silent screams.

Her last breath escaped in a gurgling rasp, her lips trembling as the darkness claimed her.

Alex's body collapsed to the cold ground, her consciousness slipping away — but her final stand left the statues trapped in eternal torment.

The statues remained trapped in her psychic snare, doomed to battle within their own fractured minds — silent witnesses to the defiant spirit of the woman they had broken.

With one last, shuddering breath, Alex's body went limp, collapsing onto the cold ground.

Darkness closed over her — but in that final moment, her spirit screamed victory.